


Rendezvous in Santiago

by AVegetarianCannibal



Series: Slice of Life [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Clothed Sex, Fluff, Hannibal is scruffy and it turns Will on, Hotel Sex, M/M, Pining, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Seduction, Sharing Clothes, They Flip!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 15:42:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14381784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVegetarianCannibal/pseuds/AVegetarianCannibal
Summary: Will Graham's ongoing seduction of Hannibal Lecter is... ongoing. This time he's whipping out his best moves in Santiago, Chile.





	Rendezvous in Santiago

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shukkhy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shukkhy/gifts).



> This is the third installment of the series tentatively titled "Together." It's not absolutely necessary to read the two previous installments, as these are not plot heavy pieces. All you need to know is they're safe and together after the fall, and they're really REALLY hot for each other.

Will wakes up to an empty bed, which has been the norm as of late.

Not that he's been sleeping all that much, really. He's spent most nights tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable. The sheets smell like lemony detergent and sunlight from hanging to dry outside, and not like Hannibal as they should.

With an agitated grunt, he grabs his phone and calls the only person who can rectify the situation. It only has to ring once.

"Good morning, Will." His voice sounds thick and sleepy still.

"There's nothing good about it," Will grumbles. "Did you manage to sleep? You sound like it."

"Is something wrong?" He goes from sounding sleepy to alert in an instant. "What's wrong?"

"You're not here," Will sighs. "Everything is fine except for that."

Hannibal gives him a small laugh. "I miss you, as well. I did sleep for about an hour or so, only because I've been awake for days. Have you picked a dog from the rescue yet?"

"I'm waiting until you get home," Will tells him. "We should pick one together. You're coming home soon, aren't you?"

"We're together right now," Hannibal says.

Just like that, they're both stretched out on a blanket near the little river by their new home. The piercingly blue Patagonian sky is threaded by a few high clouds, just enough to soften the sunlight like curtains made of lace.

"How's the art brokering going?" Will asks. "Is Santiago nice?"

"Everything is going perfectly well. Just as I expected, the buyer is too gullible for his own good---which is to my benefit, of course. And yes, Chile is nice." Hannibal shifts to look at him. "Is that really what you want to talk about?"

Will turns on his side and flings one leg over Hannibal's. "I tried to go without washing the sheets and pillow cases so I could hold onto the smell of you. The smell of the last time we were together and you made me come three times..."

Hannibal flashes him a sly smile. "The favor was returned, as I recall."

"Happy to oblige," Will says. "But everything stopped smelling like you and us and just started smelling like my disgustingly sweaty body."

"There's nothing disgusting about your body. Trust me, I've inspected every millimeter of it."

Will snorts. "You haven't had to live with sheets soaked in my old night sweats."

Now Hannibal looks worried. "Are you having nightmares?"

Will shakes his head, even though Hannibal can't see him for real. "Just missing you is all."

A few seconds pass without Hannibal saying anything. The clouds pause in the sky, waiting.

"Damn it," Hannibal finally whispers. “Client wants to meet downstairs in 15 minutes. He just texted to ask if I could 'hook him up' with another piece by an under-talented, overvalued artist."

"Go deal with the gullible oaf," Will tells him. "I think I'll go for a run in a bit, try to tire myself out."

“I'll be home in four days," Hannibal says. "You can hold on for that much longer, can't you?"

"Of course," Will promises him. "I'll see you when you get home."

Not five minutes after they say their goodbyes, Will is online and booking a flight to Santiago.

* * *

His first stop in Santiago is a large pharmacy after first passing by many smaller ones. He has no idea if they sell what he's looking for, but figures he has a better chance at a big chain-looking place.

A young woman arranges a display of sunscreen behind the cosmetics counter. Will approaches her and tries to look like as a clueless a tourist as possible in his splashy floral print shirt baggy shorts.

"Necessito..." He sifts through the little Spanish he knows. "Yo quiero..."

She looks up from her work and gives him a patient smile.

What are the words for "old spice," anyway? Especia... antigua? "Yo quiero... Old Spice," he finally says. He takes out his phone and looks for the translator app he's pretty sure he has installed somewhere...

"I speak English," she says, letting him off the hook. "You need aftershave? Yes?"

"Yes, it has a ship on the bottle,” he says. He lowers his voice to a whisper. "There's just one other thing I need."

* * *

The hotel is grand and modern but trying hard to look older with Rococo touches and faux antique furniture. The fabric is easy-to-clean polyester jacquard instead of silk and wool, and the golf leaf is actually just paint. It probably offends Hannibal's decorative sensibilities, Will thinks as he sits at a small table in the rear of the lobby.

He's been there for an hour pretending to read the local paper before he catches sight of Hannibal.

"Oh Jesus fucking _Christ_ ," he whispers before he can stop himself. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from whimpering out loud.

Maybe it's just the long weeks apart, but Hannibal looks so damned good, Will's mouth actually waters. His baggy shorts suddenly don't feel _quite_ as baggy anymore.

Hannibal's hair is shaggy and longer, hanging in his eyes and almost black except for the silver bit in front that never wants to hold onto the dye. His face is tanned and gleaming, his beard about a week away from growing in thick and full. He's wearing... Well, Will now realizes where his olive drab jacket went and why he wasn't able to find it in the closet when he wanted to go fishing the other day. Something so rumpled and obviously old shouldn't look like it belongs on Hannibal, but it does. He looks like some kind of wandering ex-soldier for hire which, Will suspects, Hannibal is fully aware adds to his made-up reputation.

Will summons all his strength to keep from rocketing to his feet and leaping upon Hannibal like some kind of rabidly horny monkey. He forces himself to calm his breathing, calls on his old abilities, and pictures the events like a crime scene.

_I watch Hannibal walk up to the front desk to collect his messages. One of them is written in the concierge's own hand and says "meet me in the bar." I did pay the guy a hundred bucks to deliver the note and for a copy of Hannibal's room key._

_I duck behind the newspaper when Hannibal looks around. I wait until Hannibal is on his way to the bar before jumping up from my seat and ducking into the stairwell._

_Hannibal's room is on the third floor. I let myself inside, dig the Old Spice out from my shopping bag and gently shake a single drop onto my finger. I touch the bed linens before touching the nape of my neck, then go to the bathroom to strip out of all my clothes. As soon as Hannibal walks through the door, I'm going to present him with my naked, eager body. We'll ruin the bed and leave a note of apology to the cleaning staff along with a generous tip._

_This is my design._

* * *

He's been waiting in the bathroom for about five minutes when he hears the hotel room click open. From his vantage point, he can see Hannibal in the mirror without being seen himself.

At once, Hannibal's posture changes. He is alert, like an animal on the hunt. His nostrils flare as he takes a long, slow breath. He tosses his bag to the floor and touches the pillows before bringing his fingertips to his face.

"Hello, Will.”

Leaning against the bathroom door, Will swivels into the bedroom. "Hello, Hannibal."

He savors the way Hannibal's eyes go instantly glassy at the sight of him, the way his mouth parts as he gasps and then licks his lips.

Will holds out his hand, beckoning. "When did you know it was me?"

"The moment I walked into the lobby," Hannibal says. He crosses the room to take Will into his arms. He buries his face in Will's neck, breathing him in. "The air felt different, charged with possibility, and I knew."

Will laughs. "The air was charged with this aftershave you hate, you mean."

"Or perhaps I was only hoping," Hannibal admits. "I knew for certain when I received the note and recognized the concierge's sloppy penmanship."

"You didn't think the concierge was hitting on you?" Will asks. He tilts back his head to receive more of Hannibal's kisses. "Sexy thing like you might've had him feeling  bold enough."

"I knew it was you," Hannibal says, pulling away just enough to meet his eyes. "I always know when it's you."

It's a clumsy trip across the room, half march and half stumbling over one another's feet, because Will is trying to kiss Hannibal at the same time. He tastes like the brandy he must have had with the client, and Will suddenly and very keenly wants Hannibal to taste only of him.

He flings himself backwards onto the bed and gets his legs open as wide as he can, tilts up his hips and lifts his balls out of the way. "Here, come here," he says as if he has to say it.

Hannibal understands his intent perfectly and falls to his knees and grabs Will's hips to pull him closer. It's been five weeks and something like eighteen hours since they were together last, and the first flick of Hannibal's tongue against his hole feels like fire. "More, God, please more," he whispers, not remotely embarrassed by how needy he sounds.

The tongue pushing deeper inside him, the lips encircling his hole, move together in as worshipful a kiss as they have ever placed anywhere on Will's body. Will reaches down, gets his hands in Hannibal's long, pulls just hard enough to be encouraging. To say without saying it, "This is what I've wanted and needed for so long."

Hannibal looks up from his important work. "Did you bring---"

"Yes, in the bag under the bed," Will says. "With the Old Spice."

Hannibal disappears for a moment to find what he's looking for. "I see you have ambitious," he says, popping up again with the quite large bottle of lubricant.

"You should've seen the salesgirl's face," Will laughs. "She showed me a smaller bottle at first and I said I needed---"

The rest of the sentence comes out as a guttural moan because Hannibal chooses that precise moment to push one generously slicked finger inside him.

"Please... please hurry," Will says.

Hannibal tuts at him. "It takes as long as it takes, Will."

Will reaches down to give his aching cock a few consolation strokes, but Hannibal moves his hand away and pins it to the bed.

" _What!_ " It comes out as an indignant grunt.

"I'm going to want my turn," Hannibal explains, slipping a second finger inside. He presses up against Will's prostate. "I want you to find your release inside me when I'm done."

"I'm going to come from this," Will says as evenly as possible.

"Focus," Hannibal tells him. A third finger joins its slippery compatriots. "Mind over matter."

Will grunts again, but says nothing.

When Hannibal finally---finally---deems him ready enough, he withdraws his fingers and moves to undress himself.

"Wait," Will stops him. "Don't take your clothes off yet. I want them to smell like us when you go out into the world tomorrow wearing them."

"Tell me what to do," Hannibal says, spreading his arms in invitation.

"Unzip your jeans, take yourself out," Will instructs him. He moves further back onto the bed. "Come to me just like that."

Hannibal does as he's told and _oh_. The sight of him makes Will's mouth water again. He's so ready, _so_ ready for this, his cock is gleaming hard and dripping down the front of his jeans. He slicks the length of himself from the bottle, then climbs into bed to position himself between Will's legs.

The first push inside feels a bit shocking. A jolt to the system, knocking the breath out of him. The second feels like being home again. He throws back his head and laughs. It's a sound of relief and joy and just... just  _finally_. It's been like waiting for their first time together, except now he _knows_ what he was missing.

The laughter gives way to ragging panting and then trying to remember how to breathe at all, and finally little needy whimpers each time Hannibal buries himself to the hilt. The whole bed shakes with the force of Hannibal's thrusts. Will feels insensible with need. Only the sound of Hannibal's voice brings him back.

"Will. I want you to get me ready."

"Huh?" He wipes sweat out of his eyes with the back of his hand. "What?"

Without pulling out, Hannibal unbuckles his jeans and shoves them down around his hips. "Your fingers," he says, glancing at the bottle, "inside me, while I'm inside you."

Will manages to focus long enough to get the fingers on his left hand good and sloppy slick. He follows the crack of Hannibal's ass and plunges the middle finger inside as far as he can reach. He gets another finger hooked inside after a few strokes, massaging the tight ring of muscle until it relaxes and lets him deeper inside.

It's like being part of a circuit, linked together inside and out. Will can feel Hannibal's muscles clenching as his rhythm speeds up and stutters to a desperate pace.

Will barely has a moment to savor the hot, thick flood bursting deep within him before Hannibal rocks back and away from him.

"No," Will protests, fully aware he sounds a bit whiny.

Hannibal flings off all his clothes in an instant---it's damned near a feat of magic, really---and rolls Will up off the mattress as they trade places.

"Please," Hannibal says, and he's so terribly polite about it that Will can't deny him. He echoes Will's own words: "Please, hurry."

Will gets on his knees and puts Hannibal's legs up on his shoulders. He slathers the ample lubricant and semen spilling out of him all over his own cock.

"Hurry," Hannibal says again.

Will eases his way in, and it's another jolt of sensation. Hannibal's muscles spasm around him in the remnants of his orgasm, pumping out the last trickles of his come. Will locks eyes with him. Hannibal's expression tells him: _This is what you do to me._ It's a powerful thing to know you have an effect like this on someone, just as they have on you. 

Hannibal holds his arms out to him. Silent communication. Will knows he means he wants to be made love to the way he makes love to Will.

Will eases Hannibal's legs off his shoulders and down around his waist. He stretches out on top of him, bodies so close that barely an atom could between their separate skins. There are times when he needs Hannibal to bear down on him, his weight a grounding thing pressing him into the mattress and anchoring him between the body above him and the world beneath him. He gives the same thing to Hannibal now, their sweat- and lubricant- and come-glossed skin sliding together, their  rib cages knocking against one another as if the bones could meld until they really were conjoined.

He reaches out, almost blind with the intensity of their shared need, until his fingers find the nape of Hannibal's neck, and directs Hannibal's mouth to his own. They breathe each other's breath, taste each other's tongues. He doesn't taste like brandy anymore, Will thinks to himself, just as he topples helplessly into orgasm.

Hannibal holds him in place with his legs. "Stay just like that," he whispers. "Until you're soft, stay inside me."

Will drops his forehead onto Hannibal's chest and nods, unable to speak.

* * *

The next morning, they give each other lazy hand jobs in the shower and make out until Will is fairly certain his lips are going to be red from the little nips of Hannibal's teeth. He combs Hannibal's hair for him and towels the water off his body before, on an impulse, he slaps a handful of the much-maligned aftershave onto his bare ass.

"I'm sorry," he says, laughing. "I know you hate this stuff, but I couldn't resist."

Hannibal turns around to take him by the hips and pull him close. "I never hated it," he confesses. "I only mocked it so you wouldn't know my true feelings."

Will's jaw drops open. "I gave up wearing this for four years because I thought you hated it!"

"Don't feel a rush to start again," Hannibal says. "I only said I didn't hate it. I only like that it reminds me of you. The smell of motor oil and fish entrails remind me of you, as well, but I'd suggest wearing them in moderation."

Will gives his ass another little slap. "Fish entrails! You make me sound so desirable."

"The most desirable man in all creation," Hannibal says, with nothing less than complete sincerity. "Speaking of which, I really _am_ going to wear my clothes reeking of us."

Will shakes his head. "You don't really have to. I just said that in the heat of the moment."

Hannibal looks thoughtful. "A compromise, then. I'll wear the jacket if you wear the jeans for your flight home."

"Deal," Will says, tilting his head up for a kiss.

Hannibal gives him three soft, lingering kisses, and a fourth peck for good measure. "Or you could stay here and we could fly back together in three days."

"The house is a wreck," Will says. "I haven't cleaned since you left. The sink is stacked with bowls and all my fishing gear is on the dining room floor. I can see you dying a little inside as I say that, so don't bother protesting."

"If you insist, then."

Hannibal gives him one last crushing embrace before getting dressed. Five minutes later, he's heading out the door to meet with the client with another art deal. When it's over, they'll be financially secure for years and set for any number of worldly explorations, or even just finally picking out that dog from the rescue.

Will gathers up his few belongings, puts on the jeans that are a little long in the legs for him and leaves fifty bucks on the nightstand for the housekeeping staff, tucked quite securely under the ship on the bottle.

 

 

(the end... for now)

**Author's Note:**

> Hannibal's overall look and the original germ of this installment came from the requester asking for something based on the first [two gifs in a Tumblr post](http://shukkhy.tumblr.com/post/172890984577/wiith-my-hands-move-on-mads-mikkelsen), from Mads Mikkelsen in Move On.


End file.
